Iwannaholdhishand mclennon fanfiction
by psychedelic60sgirl
Summary: John/Paul Paul and John's story and amazing journey together with the Beatles, also, a little bit of some fluff, and later into the story, some smut. But that's much later. Just cuteness right now, and conflicted emotions.


*McLennan fan fiction

*I do not own the beatles! (Sadly)

*warnings: umm... Beer? Of that's a problem? Language.

*summary: Paul and John are in for a whirlwind of an adventure. Little do they know, that one without the other is going to be seemingly impossible.

Paul sat on the couch in the school library, reading a book about his idol: Elvis Presley. Ivan sat near him, reading over his mate Paul's shoulder. Ivan wasn't very interested in the book really, but his boredom had proven to be so strong, that all of his focus was set fully on the pages on that book of Paul's. What had happened was that their English teacher had left his class in the library with specific instructions, "Read a book in here quietly, please. And STAY in here. I will be coming back to get you all. You're 16 years old. Please try to act that way." His students had nodded rather solemnly, but as soon as they saw their teacher leave, they had all done the same thing.

They had all gone outside to the blacktop for a ciggie, deliberatey disobeying the teachers rules. Paul, however, didn't usually enjoy breaking rules laid down. He was an obedient lad, who did as he was told. And his mate Ivan had decided to stay with him, obvious pity forcing him to keep Paul company. He glanced at his mate looking over his shoulder. "You know," he started, " you don't have to stay in here. You can go, honest! I'm fine here..."

Ivan chuckled. "Trying to get rid of me, are ya mate?" He smiled politely at Paul, "Listen, you're my mate. I won't leave you here by yourself. I'm fine here. I enjoy staying and reading books and numbers and words, don't you?" Paul chuckled at Ivan, "Well, alright then."

Ivan laughed, "Alright, then?"

"Yes, that's alright!"

"Well, alright!" Ivan poked Paul in the ribs as Paul made a face, giggling. Paul took a moment to glance out the window near them. He could see the students lounging around, some by the school fence, some sitting on benches, smoking on their ciggies. They were talking and laughing and being silly with each other, but a very large group of them, Paul noticed, were crowding around an older looking lad. He was dressed in black, tight drainies, and dark colored clothes, and his hair was greased back in an Elvis looking hairstyle. He leaned against the fence, smoking on a ciggie, but he somehow looked different from them. Not because he was older, but he had a juvenile delinquent look to him. Like he didn't give a care about anyone or anything.

For some reason, he amazed Paul. Paul usually didn't hang around the kids that liked to be... Troublemakers. He was known as a "goody two shoes" boy. He was plenty popular, sure, but when someone wanted to have "real" fun they knew not to go to him. Paul's idea of fun was a very different one from theirs. However, the lad on the fence made him feel a regret that he hadn't felt before. Wait a minute, no! No, Paul couldn't be feeling this way. It was too dangerous! What would his father say? No, no, no no, no. Paul had a very good head on his shoulders. He wasn't about to go switch it out for another one. He shook his head one time too many, and looked back down at his book.

Ivan looked in the direction that Paul was staring, and he saw the bloke John Lennon. He smiled briefly to himself thinking about just how different the two were, John Lennon and Paul McCartney. But in the ways they were different, they were so much the same. He shook his head, and immediately started to feel like an older brother. "Paul, I see the way you're looking at him. Like he's the most amazing boy in the world. He's not. He gets into trouble, that one! Right slacker he is! Don't get mixed up with his concerns, yeah?" He didn't want John's influence rubbing off on his innocent friend, Paul. He liked John plenty, but he knew what kind of things he could get into.

It wasn't all that bad really. But Paul was the one friend that had stayed sweet and innocent in the midst of all the dirty minds that he'd been surrounded by. It was nice, and he didn't want that to change. But when he saw Paul shake his head very seriously, he laughed. Paul had seemingly made up his mind, and he looked back down into his book. Ivan had nothing to worry about. Paul was a smart bloke! He wouldn't try to put himself down no matter what kinds of things he was around. What made him worry that John Lennon would change that? Maybe he should introduce the two. John could play the guitar better than any human he ever knew, and Paul could play just as equally well. It'd be a bloody shame for them not to meet! He'd introduce the two, yes.

"Paul?" He asked. Paul raised his eyebrows and hummed, in reply. "Would you like to join me? To a carnival, I mean? It will be fun, no silly business, no rule breaking, I mean. Just games and rides, and music... and birds, even! Yeah?"

Paul hesitated before answering. Every time Ivan invited him to a party, it'd ended up being disastrous for him. Ivan would become very drunk, and at the end he couldn't even walk Paul home in a straight line. But for some reason, something told him he should go, that he needed to go. "Sure, yeah," he relied. Ivan smiled and patted him on the back.

Jim had opened the door rather violently when he heard Ivan's loud and nonstop knocking. For the noise had startled him from his comfortable seat in his rocking chair, and from the rushed noise that was made, he was expecting the worst of news. He saw Ivan smiling at him from the other side of the doorway. "Erm, what can I do for you, son?" He asked. Ivan smiled kindly.

"Oh, absolutely nothing, sir. Only let your son accompany me to a carnival?" Jim nodded and turned his head to the side, mouth open and ready to call Paul. But his son was already downstairs, wearing a coat and greased back hair, standing right behind him. He moved to the side to let Paul pass, and then went back to his seat in the rocking chair.

John and his band were standing near the stage tuning their instruments, waiting for their turn onstage. He took a look around, and saw his mates bouncing around anxiously, smoking on ciggies or drinking some liquor. He noticed his mate Stu leaning against the stage, smoking, glancing up when a pretty bird walked by. He looked calm as he could be and John didn't like that. He was the leader, the one who was supposed to look cool and unworried. "Hey!" John joked,"Get to looking scared as hell like the others, yeah?"

Stu only chuckled. He knew that his mate didn't like to feel in superior. When John was around him, John tended to feel that way more than usual. John huffed, and turned his head away. In truth, he really just wanted his band to play well. He had dreams- big dreams. He was going to become famous, and become the most popular of the most popular. And every time they played at these small gigs, there were very important people watching. Always.

Paul and Ivan had been walking around the carnival nonstop. In cirlces. The carnival really was everything that Ivan had said it to be, surprisingly. Paul, though, was very bored. He had been promised birds and rides, and games. All the birds were taken, the good looking ones anyway. And the rides were what seemed to be meant for little eight year olds, just as well as the games. Paul sighed a long sigh, and had given up on trying not to run far way from the boring place they found themselves in. 'Ivan," he said, "er, I really think I've got to get going. That alright?" Ivan only sighed.

He knew that Paul was getting tired of walking around doing nothing. Paul didn't like getting into trouble, but he knew that it wasn't quite time for Paul to get going either. He still had to introduce him to his mate John. He had to. "Look..." He started. He stopped. He listened. In the background, he could hear music played by the one band that he'd been waiting to show Paul. Instead of trying to explain the one reason they were even at the carnival, he took Paul by the arm, and rushed to the front of the crowd gathered around the stage.

"Hey! You all!" A tall man shouted. He was looking at John and his band, clearly irritated. "Your name?" He said again. John was confused until the man clarified, "Your band! Your band's name?" John chuckled at his own foolishness, then he stated boldly and clearly, "The Quarrymen." The man sighed, then went onstage with a loud, exciting voice to get the audience reeved up. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! I HOPE YOUR ALL HAVING A GRAND TIME?" The audience cheered. "OKAY! WE'RE GOING TO GIVE IT UP FOR OUR VERY OWN, THE QUARRYMEN!" John and his band ran upstage the minute the words 'Quarrymen' were out the man's mouth. John took his guitar, and grabbed the microphone. He waited for his bandmates to get situated before counting them off, then he started to sing.

Paul, still shocked, had stared at Ivan as he gestured for him to keep following him. Ivan had let go of his arm once they were halfway through the crowd,as obvious excitement poured through him. Soon though, they were in the front of the entire crowd, right in front of the stage. In front if Paul, was the same bloke he had saw leaning outside the school, with a teddy boy look. He looked the exact same way, with tight black drainies, Elvis Presley hairstyle. Only thing was, that now, Paul didn't think about how bad an influence the lad may be, or about what his father or teachers may think of him hanging around with a bloke like that. Because now, now he knew that this boy could play. And sing. And he wanted to make music with him, he wanted to make and play music with the older boy.

"Who... I mean... What are they? Called, I mean? The band?" Paul asked slowly. Ivan smiled at his friends obvious look of being impressed. He knew Paul would love them. Paul'd never meet Elvis. Or Buddy Holly for that matter. But being with the Quarrymen, and with John, well, that was as big as it got with Liverpool. "They're the Quarrymen. They're good, yeah?" Paul nodded and smiled. He could tell that they were playing Maggie May, and they were getting all of the chords right, everything very well. He knew the song could use a better bass, no disrespect for the fellow playing the bass currently. He stayed and listened to the band, all of their songs. Once they finished, he felt immediate sadness. He sighed and turned away from the stage.

Ivan knew the young lad was disappointed. He knew that Paul wanted more, and Ivan could absolutely give him more! He lightly rested his hand on Paul's shoulder, " You want to go backstage? It's really just a building, out behind the stage, but that's what they call it. " Paul turned to Ivan, with a confused expression, "Is that even allowed?" Ivan laughed at the question, " No. But I'm with the band in a way. Hm... Consider me a groupie." Paul smiled a wide smile, and followed Ivan to the building.

John had been surrounded by many people and beer, and cigarettes. Many of them were just other teenagers who knew them from school, thinking that that automatically gave them a right to be backstage with them. In a way, he didn't mind it. He liked not being alone, liked feeling recognized. But he really didn't like that even when was stuck in a group with a bunch of interesting people, he still felt strangely empty. He shrugged the feeling off, knowing that he should feel proud and excited, not depressed and hollow. He smiled randomly at the people that called his name, mostly they were birds, trying to get him to chat them up. He sighed, and went to grab a beer from the cooler that lay on the center table.

Paul sat at the piano that he found when Ivan had seemingly abandoned him. Ivan had just walked him to a table in the center of the room, saying, " alright mate, I'm just going to grab a beer, I'll be back soon, okay? Stay right here! Don't move, I'm comin' back!" Well Paul had been waiting there, at the table, for longer than half an hour. Or so it felt. He had begun to wander around the room, refusing to drink a beer or smoke a ciggie. He ended up finding a piano, all alone in a corner, not too far away from the rest of the crowd, but not too centered either. He check to make sure it was in tune, then he sat, playing random tunes he had heard before. Some by Elvis, some by other artists.

He also wanted to impress a pretty bird, but mostly he just had nothing else to do in that building. Most of the students there were older than he was, and though a lot of people knew and liked him, he couldn't help but feel bored with this crowd. So finding that these were two good enough reasons to keep playing, he did just that. Little did he know, someone was listening to him. And someone was curious to know who was playing, for not many people could catch his attention so easily...

John had soon learned that he had one too many beers when he ended up tripping over his own two feet, falling flat on his face. He brushed it off though, being able to hold his liquor pretty well. Well, well enough for him. He was talking to a bird that was smoking. They were leaned up against a counter near them. The bird was pretty, but she had too much makeup, and she was known for sleeping around with everyone at school. _Everyone_ , which meant including other birds. John half-heartedly smiled at her, though he hadn't heard a word she just said. He was getting fed up with all of the kids who kept on calling his name, thinking it would be posh in front of the other kids to get to talk with him. He knew that he wasn't _that_ popular, but enough people felt so.

He sighed, feeling tired suddenly. It was only the late evening. The orange red sky had dissapeared, and had gone to being a light blue gray. It was probably around six o'clock or so. He fumbled his pockets for a ciggie, but failed. He stood up straight as he could, and walked way from the bird right in the middle if her sentence. He had to get away from the smothering people. He would have to get used to it if he wanted to become famous, but he today, he did not feel up to trying. He stopped, his hand was paused midway of getting another beer. He had noticed that there was an extra noise in the building, but he didn't realize that it was a piano. And the person playing that piano... Sounded bloody brilliant.

He quickly put his hand back to his side, and follow the music.

Paul had been so very concentrated and into the music that he was playing. He made up tunes, recalled some he had learned a while back, and even combined certain songs to make an entirely new peice. Ivan had still been gone, for quite a while, but he didn't really care. He didn't need Ivan to watch him like he was some sort of baby. He knew Ivan had a habit of doing things like that. Feeling responsible for him. But Paul was fine, and completely happy. The piano playing had even caused a few birds to stop and hear him play, giving him complements or flirtatious grins, but Paul had completely forgotten about them once he started playing. It was just him and the piano, playing for the sake of playing.

John had stopped about ten feet away from the younger lad at the piano. He was moving his fingers fast, completely concentrated on the strange but amazing tune he was playing. He staggered over to him, leaning over the lad, not fully understanding that it may have been uncomfortable to the both. Paul had barely noticed the bloke standing over him, watching. He didn't notice, but he looked up abruptly when he smelt something foul. Alcohol? Had he been drinking, this boy? He looked at the boys eyes and immediately recognized the face he had earlier seen at school, and recently seen onstage. He was confused at first, but soon remembered where he was. Playing music usually had that effect on him. He scooted away as the dizzying smell of alcohol started to give him a headache.

He'd seen plenty of the kids his age drink, but he'd never really seen someone look so... Drunk. Not even Ivan, who always made sure he didn't pass out in front of him. But this bloke, didn't look too far away from doing just that. Paul tried not to gag as he watched the boy smirk at him. John couldn't help but smirk as he watched the younger lad watch him with a look of disgust and shock, and confusion. The kid looked like such an innocent little lamb, he didn't know just how exactly strange he might've looked to him. Instead of talking though, he chose to sit down right next to him.

Paul wanted to get up and leave at the moment that the older boy sat next to him, but he stayed where he was. The boy surprisingly spoke clearly instead of slurred, " What tune is that? That you're playing there?" Paul shrugged, and answered back quietly, "Nothing really. Just a mixture of tunes, some are my own." The older boy nodded, then he stretched out his hand, "John Lennon. You are?" Paul silently laughed, feeling as if he had heard the name before, "Paul McCartney.". John knew who this lad was. Well, sort of. Ivan had been begging him to hear this boy play the guitar. He claimed that John might finally have some competition. John's smirk grew wider, showing a bit of teeth, "Oh, aye? You're a fine piano player."

Paul nodded, looking John squarely in the eye, "Thank you." John could tell that Paul felt he was better than just "fine" from the way he gave him that look. John wanted to laugh right there and then, but he kept his cool. "How old're ya?" John asked. "'M sixteen. How about yourself?" John gave Paul a once over before answering, "Seventeen. I hear you play guitar?" Paul nodded, "Yes. I saw you play too. You're not too horrible." John nodded slowly.

"Hm. Guitar, eh? That's interesting. You haven't the proper hands. You sing too don't you? You haven't the voice either," John said. He stood up casually, and walked away, hands in his pockets. Paul sat there, dumbfounded. Did john just insult him right in front of his face? He didn't know what the boy meant by it. "You haven't the proper hands. You haven't the voice either." He had just said it so... Matter of factly... Like it was really just an observation. Even though Paul didn't know how to take John's comment, he had made up his mind. He felt the need to show John, to prove that he was good. He had the urge, also, to make John look stupid in front of all his adoring "pupils" too. He'd show John who had the "proper" hands. He got up, and started to follow John.

John had seen how fast Paul's hands moved on that keyboard. He knew he just had to hear Paul play the guitar. He had to, and he would. John had a way of manipulating people to make them do what he wanted. He decided that he could compliment Paul, to butter him up. Or he could just insult him. He didn't make it too obvious, he had wanted Paul to feel self doubt as well. He had found that when people feel intimidated, they bring out their best, more so than usual. Especially when they felt they needed to prove something. He guessed it was reversed phycology, or something, he didn't know about that bloody stuff. He just knew it worked. So, he went to go chat up some random bird, and waited.

Paul found John talking to a tall, pretty bird, drinking a beer. He had just stared for a minute, feeling confused as to what he was going to do in the first place. He looked around for a brief moment, but he looked back at John again. John had noticed Paul was staring at him confused. He grinned, knowing he was soon going to get what he wanted, "The matter, Paul? You lost?" He asked, sounding pretty genuine. Paul knew that despite the fact that John sounded very sincere, it was all just an act, "Have you seen Ivan?" He had actually wanted the answer to that question. Perhaps Ivan could help him out in this little situation. He wasn't going to be immature by treating John with scorn.

John had actually felt a bit of disappointment when he heard Paul's reply. He'd been expecting something a little more... Sharp. He quickly recovered, though, and had shook his head, " No, afraid I 'aven't. Why? Do you need him to take you home? I could always get another..." He stopped when he saw Paul shake his head stubbornly. He watched as Paul looked around some more, wondering what he was really doing, what was really going on in his mind.

Paul's wandering eyes had stopped when they landed on a guitar sitting on the wooden table next to the beer cooler. He didn't even care about who's it was, he just wanted to grab it, and take pride in watching John's face grow red of embarrassment. There was only one thing wrong with that perfect guitar, and that made absolutely everything wrong with it. Paul was left handed, and sitting on his bed at that moment, was a guitar made especially for left handers. This guitar, though, was made for right handers. He looked back at John, who was now flirting with the bird again, and that made him feel angry. He wanted everyone to know that John wasn't the best of the best. He was very, very good. But Paul had talents to show off too. Ivan, of all people, had interuppted his train of thought at that precise moment.

"PAUL!" Ivan whispered loudly. John looked up in time to see Ivan whispering into Paul's ear. Though he had been chatting with that bird, he had still managed to catch Paul looking at his guitar sitting on the center table. Paul looked irritatedly at Ivan. "Yes?" He said. Ivan's eyes grew wide, "I see you lookin' at that guitar! It's right handed, Paul!" Ivan slurred. Paul sighed wishing his friend wouldn't point out the obvious. Even if it was because of his stupor. Paul only nodded distractedly. He completely ignored Ivan, and walked over to the guitar, sitting perfectly still, but taunting him. John watched as Paul picked up his guitar, and followed him. A few of his Quarrymen had followed him, as they usually did. Pretty soon, John got what he wanted. Paul started to play.

John had sat in his room that night, replaying what had happened over and over again. Paul had picked up John's guitar, and had started playing 20 flight rock. He watched him intently, staring at how fast his fingers moved, listening to how perfect the chords sounded. His Quarrymen watched him in awe as well, even Stu, which had upset him a bit. Paul definitely had skills, and John found that he definitely had competition. He wanted —needed— Paul to join his band. There was only one problem. John was the leader of this band. He knew that taking in Paul meant putting that leadership in jeapordy. He though about it all night, trying to decide what was more important: Making his image look better? Or Making the band look better?


End file.
